


Hidden

by vinyl_octopus



Series: Tentacle 'verse [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:06:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinyl_octopus/pseuds/vinyl_octopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin and Douglas have been dating for a while, but Martin has a secret and he's not going to be able to keep it much longer...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden

 

This was a good and proper snogging. One of only a handful he had enjoyed in his life.

Well. “Enjoyed”. This might actually be the _only_ time he had enjoyed it. Usually he was overcome with nerves and, of course, then there was the inevitable moment when ... And that rather overshadowed any previous _enjoyment_.

However, Douglas was quite... talented.

Of _course_ he was.

Martin gasped as that silver tongue made short work of his synapses. Forgetting himself for a moment, he pressed up against the other man. Douglas shifted his leg between Martin’s – and it was like being prodded with a lightning bolt as he came back to his senses. Quickly he shifted his hips so they were still leaning together but there was no risk of... groinal interaction. He pushed his fingers more forcefully into Douglas’s thick hair and plunged his tongue back into his First Officer’s warm mouth to distract him from that sudden shimmy.

A wily hand made its way down Martin’s chest and he almost groaned at the sensation of Just. Being. Touched. But one corner of his mind couldn’t fully relax, forever tracking that hand in case it should – ah yes, there it went. Another quick swivel and it landed on his buttock, rather than anywhere... else.  
  
Judging from Douglas’s appreciative squeeze and deep hum, he’d got away with that one for now, but his own breathlessness and rising heart rate was starting to veer away from passion and more towards panic. Particularly as Douglas’s other hand began to drift.  
  
Fumbling, he managed to open his own shirt, prompting a quirk of Douglas’s eyebrow at this out-of-character manoeuvre.

 

Bugger. Time for another tactic. Ah. Perhaps a taste of the Sky God’s own medicine.

 

Martin slithered one hand down Douglas’s chest and straight down to cup between his legs. The sudden intake of breath told him he’d won that round and the kissing began again in earnest as Martin rubbed and rubbed; ignoring, and ever-more conscious of, his own growing problem. He didn’t need to look down to know that even a passing glance, never mind touch, would give him away at this point. The only hope was to keep Douglas blinded by passion and then... _God_. And then _what_ , exactly?

He’d managed to get this far, and wasn’t that a miracle?

Or an act of supreme idiocy. His heart shivered and he pressed his lips against Douglas’s hot neck as he fought against the sudden memory. That yell of shocked revulsion still echoed, cold and sharp, and Martin felt his stomach knot painfully. Yep. Definitely panic now. And while Douglas might be distracted by the hand job Martin was still mechanically working him through, even he was going to notice that Martin had all but stopped kissing him now, caught up in that not-quite-paralysing-enough fear.

 _Fuck_. What was he going to do? Just walk out once Douglas reached his “happy ending”? Because _that_ wouldn’t be awkward to explain to the man who’d been so patiently and subtly courting him for the past few months.

 

A writhing twitch below reminded him that other things would be even... _harder_... to explain.

 

“Martin?” Dazed brown eyes looked speculative. “Where have you gone? Is this going too fast?”

Even slightly out of breath and lust-addled, Douglas had picked up on his co-pilot’s panic. A gentle hand on his wrist stopped Martin’s frantic rubbing. “Not that I wasn’t enjoying that, but I’m starting to think I might have been the only one. Was I neglecting you? Let’s slow down, hmm? Back to the kissing, perhaps? Would _sir_ like to move this somewhere more comfortable?” Douglas drawled, twitching that eyebrow suggestively at the couch in front of them.

Martin’s hands rested uncertainly at Douglas’s waist, his head bowed, hips deliberately shifted away from the other man, and he felt a hand run carefully through his dishevelled hair. Vaguely he wondered what had happened to his hat – a sign, if he needed another one, of just how far gone he’d been.

It would be fine. It would all be absolutely fine. As long as there was no below-the-belt touching. He resisted the temptation to press his own hand to his aching groin, knowing the urge was only partially to ease his discomfort. He swallowed and nodded a faint response to Douglas’s suggestion. Even his fear hadn’t quelled his arousal entirely, although it had ebbed somewhat. Still, at this point even his deliberately tight underwear, now almost excruciatingly uncomfortable, would be doing little to disguise anything. At least seated he might have a chance to ... rearrange himself.

“It’s all right, you know,” Douglas said calmingly, “I’ve waited this long; I don’t want to frighten you off – or do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Martin looked up cautiously, but he’d always been rubbish at poker, particularly against Douglas, and he could tell the other man could see some of the fear in his eyes. His throat tightened; he was only too aware what Douglas likely suspected were causing his “intimacy issues”. None of his theories were going to be anywhere near the reality of the situation, of course. Yet somehow they’d navigated their relationship this far without Douglas actually raising the subject directly, for which Martin was grateful.

But it seemed he was about to run out of time.

“It’s not... I-I haven’t... I’m not. It’s f-fine. I’m fine. Fine. Everything’s fine. Really.” Martin said, as determinedly as he could, reaching to pull Douglas down into a kiss once more.

Clearly unconvinced, Douglas let the kiss break naturally. “Well, of course, if you say it’s fine, Martin... I just want you to know there’s no pressure. I don’t have any expect–”

He held up his hand placatingly as Martin, unreasonably insulted, made to interrupt.

“I don’t have any expectations; I am just happy to be here. With you.” He squeezed Martin’s arm. “Look. I can see you’re not entirely comfortable,” he indicated the couch again. “Why don’t we relax a bit?”

 

They made their way the two steps to the squashed, velour sofa and Douglas reclined carefully, obviously pretending not to notice as Martin perched awkwardly, unsure where to put his limbs, or indeed, himself. “Why don’t you come over here?” he huffed eventually, wrapping an arm around Martin’s shoulders and pulling him affectionately into his chest, clearly being careful to keep their legs unentwined and only their sides pressed into each other, so nothing incriminating could be felt. “Now, where were we?” he husked, pressing warm lips to Martin’s and once again combing his fingers through the auburn curls.

Martin let out a heavy sigh as Douglas kissed carefully down his neck. Maybe he could have this. Just for this one night. It couldn’t last, of course, but maybe, if he was careful... _God_. Hadn’t he been through enough that he deserved this one night? He resolved to enjoy this as much as he could. He shifted, to relieve the pressure on his crotch and carefully adjusted his knees so Douglas couldn’t immediately see how affected he was. At least Douglas had seemed to get the gist of the problem, if not the truth ( _because that would have sent him screaming from the room_ , an inner voice reminded him helpfully), and he knew he could trust him to respect his unspoken boundaries. Douglas didn’t have a reputation for being a charmer and a romantic for nothing.

 

 ***

Twenty minutes later and Martin had completely relaxed. Well. “Relaxed”. Forgotten himself.

Douglas had indeed kept to his word, hands straying no further than Martin’s neck or shoulders. Butterfly kisses to his throat alternated with passionate, wet _smooches_ to his collarbones whenever they separated from just snogging each other senseless. Tongues rubbing desperately, lips beginning to chafe, hot breath... it was utterly intoxicating.  
  
Martin, consequently, was having much more trouble keeping his hands to himself. He’d got Douglas’s shirt entirely undone and had layered kiss upon kiss on that bear-like chest. Quite without any input from him his fingers were making short work of Douglas’s belt buckle.

 “Oh, my; Martin, if you don’t stop... I can’t... I won’t...” Douglas stopped rubbing Martin’s shoulders and grabbed his forearms with apparent reluctance, obviously intending to slow proceedings. Martin’s tongue on his nipple tested that resolve somewhat and he was soon running his hands back up and down Martin’s arms instead, lost to sensation.

 

Never. Martin had _never_ been this close to anyone. Never inspired passion in anyone. This was heady. For all the world Martin couldn’t imagine stopping when such delightful gasps were coming from his incorrigible First Officer. Every one tuned perfectly to his very own libido. As Douglas gave up any pretence of trying to stop Martin’s progress, he managed to undo what must have been increasingly uncomfortable trousers and slipped a hand inside, prompting a heartfelt groan from Douglas that went straight to his own groin and caused him to moan aloud.

He didn’t even notice as Douglas dropped a hand to his knee.

Hadn’t registered that he had himself actually twisted around and had been rutting against Douglas’s leg for some minutes now.

As he freed Douglas from the confines of his underwear and began to stroke him leisurely, mimicking the action with slow and sloppy tongue kisses, he became aware of his own trousers suddenly becoming somewhat...less constricting. But... _Oh_.... this felt entirely too good to stop. Surely he could... _maybe_... Without stopping the ministrations of his right hand, and barely pausing in his kisses, he pushed his left hand down between them, carefully pulling his cock _and nothing else_ through the slit in his underwear.

Oh, _God_ , even that felt... Douglas’s hand brushed over the tip and Martin whimpered with pleasure. If he kept his hand braced at the base that should surely... Douglas began to stroke him, _Ohhhh_ , in sync with Martin’s hand on him and Martin was quickly overcome with need.

They turned back to kissing, frantically pumping each other, Martin’s left hand becoming lax in its guard duty as he gave into pleasure. Until they spilled over each other within seconds of each other.

 

Oh God. Oh God. _Oh God!_

 

“Martin?” Douglas’s voice was gentle, but cautious.

 

Martin looked down.

 

Oh. God.

 

Neither of them had quite let go of the other. Martin felt all the blood leave his face and nausea twist in his gut. A tremor began and he couldn’t make himself meet Douglas’s eyes.

Douglas’s sticky index finger rested against Martin’s penis, and curled around it, for all the world like a misplaced ( _hideous, malformed_ ) pinky, was a tentacle. ( _You freak, you disgusting freak!_ ) As Martin shifted in mortification and – _fear_ – it was all too obvious that his underpants were... writhing.

Goosebumps broke out across Martin’s skin in a shivering wave and he began to shake in earnest. Belatedly he pulled his own tacky hand back from Douglas and began to curl in on himself trying to stammer out... what? An apology? An explanation?

Douglas started at the sudden movement and tried to move as carefully as possible. Evidently seeing Martin’s embarrassment he tried to put a calming hand on his knee, only for Martin to shoot, up and across the room, where he cowered against the doorway, shaking hands trying to refasten his trousers, muttering – pleading? – under his breath.

 

“Martin? Martin!”

Finally the younger man seemed to register Douglas’s voice and wary eyes gradually eased up to meet his gaze.

“Martin. It’s all right. Come here.” Douglas patted the couch invitingly.

 Martin swallowed. Barely able to stand on wobbly legs that owed nothing of their condition to his first ever assisted orgasm, and everything to the gut-wrenching terror that had flooded his body.

Douglas seemed to register that Martin was stuck in position and made to move towards the cowering pilot, pausing and flushing as his own unfastened trousers fell to the floor when he stood. Pulling them up, he huffed with quiet laughter that ought to have broken the tension if only Martin hadn’t been in shock. He held his hands out as he walked towards the door, as if he were trying to soothe a startled animal, rather than the smitten captain he’d been thoroughly snogging – and wanking – not minutes before.

“Hey. Martin. Martin, it’s all right...” he put one hand tentatively on the younger man’s shoulder, and when he didn’t immediately flinch away, wrapped the other arm around him and pulled him into a tight bear hug, careful to stand so Martin got the security and protection of his arms and body without being unnerved or distracted by any concerns about his nether regions.

Slowly Martin untensed, burying his face in his First Officer’s shoulder and clutching his still-open shirt in two nervous handfuls.

“I-I can’t... you d-don’t have to...” Martin was aware his gulping voice was at desperate odds with the death grip he had on Douglas’s shirt. He cleared his throat. “I mean,” He lifted his head, but looked anywhere at Douglas. Still shaking but managing to sound resolute. “You don’t have to stay. I understand, you know. You can go. I won’t hold it against you.” His lip curled at the unintended pun and he flattened his hands on Douglas’s chest. Pushing gently. Staring fixedly at his sternum.

 

Douglas loosened his arms but didn’t actually let go.

“Martin, do you _want_ me to leave or do you simply _expect_ me to leave? Call me a hopeless romantic, but I rather enjoy lolling in the afterglow with my partner and I had hoped that after all these months of wooing I’d be worth a little more to you than a shag and dash.”

“Douglas...” That was better. A little of that imperious tone.

Douglas retrieved one arm and tipped Martin’s head back with one finger. “I rather enjoyed tonight, and I would be most disappointed if it ended abruptly and unnecessarily. I won’t keep you here against your will, but I do think you should know...” he dipped his head to press a kiss to Martin’s lips, “that I’m quite taken with you...” _kiss_ “...and tonight was worth every moment of waiting. And now I know why we were waiting... or at least that you have been keeping something of a secret.”

Martin began to draw back again and Douglas tightened his arm around him once more, running his other hand soothingly over his jaw. “I can safely say that I will wait as long as it takes for you to be comfortable with me; with us. If that’s something you want.” This last was whispered against his temple, soft kisses pressed against the younger man’s clammy skin.

Several minutes’ silence.

 

A heavy exhale. “Do you mean it?”

“Which part?”

 “That you... Tonight... That you enjoyed tonight. And you d-don’t mind waiting?”

 “Every word.”

 “And you weren’t... You’re n-not... Because I’m... You’re n-not... disgusted?” Martin’s voice was incredulous but Douglas’s arms seemed to tighten yet further in response as if this would somehow hold Martin together against the inner turmoil that threatened to undo him.

 “Martin, I don’t _actually_ know what I am supposed to be disgusted by; you have been very quick and careful to hide from me. But I can tell you you’re beautiful and I... Well...” Douglas cleared his throat, looking awkward for the first time, “If I’m honest, I love you. So I shouldn’t imagine that you would ever disgust me.”

 

An unhappy snort. An indecipherable mutter.

 

“You’ve been hurt before. By other people’s reactions.” It wasn’t a question. Douglas gave Martin another squeeze. “Do you want to talk to me about this? Or we can talk about something else if you’d rather – I don’t want to push.”

 “I think maybe... I just...” Another heaved sigh. “Oh, God. I think I just need to...show you. And face the consequences.” An audible swallow. Douglas loosened his grip but Martin was already beginning to shake again.

 “Are you sure? You seem very–”

 “I’m sure. Well. As sure as I’m ever going to be. Better now than...” Martin flailed an arm uselessly in the air, “...later. I suppose.” His eyes were watery.

 They pulled apart. Douglas looking concerned. Martin nervous but, finally, certain.

 “How do you want to do this?”

 “Honestly, Martin, I don’t really even know what ‘this’ is, but I think... whatever is going to make you most comfortable.”

 “Okay. Maybe we should, um, sit. And if you could just look away for a moment.”

 

They moved back to the couch. No casual lounging this time. And though Martin was just as awkward as the first time, this time he sat right back in the chair, fumbling with his trousers as Douglas looked away. There was the hush of fabric and slight thump of awkward shuffling.

 “Okay,” said Martin softly. When Douglas turned back, Martin had both hands over his eyes. His trousers and pants pulled down to his thighs. Douglas swept his gaze along the clearly tensed muscles towards his lover’s crotch, finding his flaccid penis nestled in a thatch of russet hair. And surrounded by a half dozen or so... tentacles, waving lazily in the air.  
  
Perhaps he ought to have been disgusted. But this was _Martin_ and he could only stare in wonder and...well... what would have been lasciviousness if that weren’t rather dampened by the fact that the very object of his affections was shaking harder than ever beside him.

“Martin...” he almost crooned his name as he pressed kisses to the long-fingered hands still pressed desperately to his face. Douglas carefully peeled them away to stare into silver-blue. “Martin, you’re... beautiful. Amazing.”

 He watched as those eyes widened in confusion, then narrowed in suspicion.

 Before he could say another word he pressed his lips to the Cupid’s bow, trying to communicate all the passion he felt. When Martin was gasping and no longer shaking he repeated, “Beautiful.”

“May I touch?”

Martin took a shaky breath and nodded, still refusing to look down. Douglas inhaled, staring down at his lover’s, frankly, fascinating secret. He ran a finger around the base of Martin’s cock and through his pubes, gently cupping his balls, before cautiously stroking one of the... appendages. Martin let out a soft gasp as the tentacle Douglas was touching tightened around his finger and the others writhed as Martin thickened, some of them curling around and caressing the growing cock they surrounded.

 “I say, Martin, that _is_ rather a marvellous trick.” Douglas’s voice had dropped at least an octave and he felt himself stir as he watched. He wondered what they’d feel like wrapped around his tongue... wrapped around _him_... perhaps even, he gauged their length... wrapped around himself _and_ Martin...

 “Do you know,” he husked, turning to Martin and finally letting that lasciviousness shine through, “I think I may have come up with at least five rather good ideas...”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to this prompt: http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4207.html?thread=6088815#cmt6088815


End file.
